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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28075668">What Are Friends For</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FannibalToast/pseuds/FannibalToast'>FannibalToast</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV), Schitt's Creek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>BFFs, Comedy, Crack Fic, Gen, Mentions of Murder, What's a little mutilation between friends, implied gore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:08:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,238</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28075668</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FannibalToast/pseuds/FannibalToast</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Hannibal needs to get rid of the judge in Will's murder trial, he knows just who to call for help. </p>
<p>David Rose is the only person who shares his flair for the dramatic, after all.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hannibal Lecter &amp; David Rose, Mentioned Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>What Are Friends For</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A gift for a dear friend, who very innocently asked what it would be like if Hannibal and David were to meet. Two glasses of wine later, this happened. As mentioned in the tags, this is pure crack, meant to be weird and funny. It made me laugh, at least :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/>
<p>David huffed, checking his hair in the rearview mirror and taking an extra moment to smooth his brows. It was dark and the parking lot was deserted, save for the car he shared with his family. He couldn’t <em> believe </em> he’d had to sneak out like this. Was he <em> fourteen? </em> Not that there was anywhere in particular he couldn’t go, but <em> still</em>. Sometimes you had to make your own fun, right?</p>
<p>But tonight wasn't fun. <em> No</em>, tonight was a <em> pain</em>, because he’d already been on his way out to meet Stevie when his phone rang, and if it were <em>literally </em> anybody else he would have ignored it. So <em> now </em> he had to sneak out with the keys, drive an <em> obscene </em> amount of time in the dark (squinting at the unfamiliar road signs had better not give him premature crow’s feet, so help him), <em> and </em> he’d have to make it up to Stevie and there’s no way she’d let it be easy, <em> no</em>, she’d make sure it was something <em> awful</em>, like (<em>ugh</em>) another tailgate party or going to that burned-out movie theater where the chairs sloped to the left because the floor was uneven and the armrests were sticky (<em>why?! </em> The floor he could at least tolerate with minimal dry-heaving but the <em> armrests?!).  </em></p>
<p>Annoying as it was, there were three people who he would always pick up for: Jared Leto (because he still had David’s Burberry poncho from the exclusive 2012 all-wool summer season and he <em> stole it </em> after Alexis dumped him); Mariah Carey (because <em> duh</em>); and his former psychiatrist.</p>
<p>Dr. Lecter had shared his outrage over the loss of the poncho and had helped David clean up a little mess or two over the years. It had been a while since he’d called, but as soon us <em> Cheekbones </em> flashed across his screen, David knew he had to go. Something about a guy, a dog, an ear, blah blah blah; David knew how it went. </p>
<p>It was nice to be back in a city, at least. </p>
<p>Shouldering his bag with a long-suffering sigh, he made his way toward the door of the darkened courthouse. He raised his hand to knock, only to flinch back with a yelp that he would definitely deny, if it ever came up. Hannibal sauntered out from the shadows <em> because of course he did</em>, greeting David with a wry little smile as he pushed the door open. </p>
<p>“David. It’s been far too long.”</p>
<p>David crossed his arms, biting back a smirk. “This is a bit cryptic, even for you.”</p>
<p>“Do come in. I’m afraid we have our work cut out for us this evening. Please, this way. Tell me, how is Moira?”</p>
<hr/>
<p>It looked like a construction zone at first. Just… a very tidy one. There was plastic sheeting in the center of the room, along with what looked like a portable operating table, a rolling tray of assorted tools, and off to the side, fishing wire, a white silk blindfold, a judge’s robe, and a set of golden scales that looked <em> just </em> a hint tarnished. But <em> intentionally </em> tarnished, because where David had his black acid-wash Gucci jeans, Hannibal had hand-tarnished brass justice scales. </p>
<p>Fashion is <em> fashion </em> in all its forms. </p>
<p>“Oh look, a body.” And there was. Neat, even prim, on the table, beneath a portable spotlight. </p>
<p>Hannibal chuckled, handing over a pair of black Neoprene gloves as he zipped himself into his plastic suit. “This one will require some assistance, I’m afraid. I will need help with the pose.”</p>
<p>David donned his gloves with a snap, glancing over the assembly of tools. “The bone saw? Really? What, you’re cutting open someone’s skull now?”</p>
<p>“Where is your sense of camaraderie? <em> We </em> are cutting open someone’s skull.”</p>
<p>“Ugh, <em> fine</em>, but you’re paying for my dry-cleaning this month. This coat is Balenciaga.”</p>
<p>Hannibal looked up, murder suit crinkling. “What would have possessed you to wear Balenciaga to one of our little gatherings?”</p>
<p>“I was on my way to an <em> actual </em> party, thank you. Sort of.” He paused, pulling a face, rolling his eyes up and up until they closed. “But I’m glad you called. It’s been a while since I got to enjoy... the finer things. And it’s always lovely to see you out in the world.”</p>
<p>Hannibal smirked. </p>
<p>“So who’s the stiff? Some judge?”</p>
<p>“Indeed. There is a verdict of his that needs to be rendered in a very specific way.”</p>
<p>“Got it. So. You seem… better.” David tapped the very tip of his finger against the scalpel, eyeing Hannibal’s meticulously combed hair, the twinkle of inspiration in his eye, which was always a good look on him. Well, not for the ones who <em> inspired </em> the inspiration, but that was beside the point. “What ever happened to that guy you were seeing?”</p>
<p>Hannibal lifted his head, lips pursing ever so slightly. </p>
<p>“<em>Oh </em> my <em> god, </em> did you finally hook up?”</p>
<p>An almost imperceptible frown. </p>
<p>“<em>Ohmygod </em> did you <em> break </em> up?”</p>
<p>“There are certain complexities in the due course of romance that can complicate the nature of—“</p>
<p>“OH MY GOD! Did you frame him for murder and send him to <em> prison</em>?”</p>
<p>Hannibal’s head fell. </p>
<p>“You <em> did!</em>” David gasped, hand on his chest. “Are we... is this <em> his </em> judge?!” </p>
<p>Hannibal glanced up. “I... did not think I would miss him so terribly.”</p>
<p>“So <em> you </em> made a <em> mistake </em> and dragged me all the way out to help you <em> fix it. </em> ” David waved a hand at him, sticking his chin out. “And now <em> I’m </em> an accomplice! Can you imagine <em> this </em> in prison?” He waved at his hips, scowling. Prison was an option he was very much <em>not</em> interested in, thank you. He had the entirely wrong complexion for orange, and it was bad enough sharing a bathroom with Alexis.</p>
<p>“It’s possible I oversimplified the intensity of my affections.”</p>
<p>“And you say I’m the dramatic one.” David crossed his arms, mouth screwed up into a petulantly thin line. He tried his hardest not to tap his foot. It might crease the leather on his shoes, which neither of them would appreciate. </p>
<p>Hannibal’s lips shifted, morphing into what was, quite frankly, the most elegant pout David had ever seen. </p>
<p><em> Ugh</em>, David knew that look. <em> Fine</em>. He… perhaps… knew what it was like to be hung up on someone you couldn’t have through what could be <em> perceived </em> as faults of your own. And <em> maybe </em> it had been hard seeing Hannibal so glum lately… though it was <em> entirely </em>his own doing, thank you very much. </p>
<p>David rolled his eyes. “Fine, but we’re getting tapas after this. We’re in a city, there has to be a tapas bar open somewhere, right? And then you’re going to tell me what <em> exactly </em> has been going on with you and that hot dog-walker.”</p>
<p>“He is <em> not </em> a dog-walker. He’s a brilliant profiler. What he has is pure empathy. He can adopt anyone’s point of view—”</p>
<p>“Yes, okay, I get it, big blue eyes, curls for days, <em> genuine human emotion</em>, I remember.” He smoothed a hand over his forehead. “So let’s get this skull open and get your man acquitted so we can go get tapas.”</p>
<p>Hannibal nodded, lips quirking into that demure little grin of his.</p>
<p>“You should’ve called Alexis, you know. She dealt with this kind of thing when she was dating that Greek billionaire when her passport was stolen in Belize and she ended up spending the night hiding in a morgue drawer. Hand me the bone-saw, please.”</p>
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